The Prophet's Story
by roses and hello
Summary: Scorpius is assigned to cover Rose Weasley's wedding - the trouble is that she's his ex, and they didn't exactly leave things on good terms. Loosely based off the Philadelphia Story.


_Granger-Weasley seeks alliance with property mogul._

"Rest of the article's on pages two and three, Malfoy."

Scorpius's head shot up, and he felt his cheeks heat.

"Or were you looking at the pictures?" Jeremiah Houghton, gossip columnist for the _Daily Prophet_ , grinned at him. "Not a bad spread, eh? Cuffey reckons she's preggers, and that's the real reason they're rushing."

Under the table, Scorpius dug his nail into the webbing between his thumb and finger before he thought he had enough control over himself to respond. "Can't believe they gave you so much space to wank on about that monstrosity of a hotel he's building. How much did he shell out for that?"

Jeremiah shrugged, unruffled. "Takes out a lot of advertising, doesn't he? Your ugly mug made page two, not that you're looking. Went for party boy, man-about-town vibe rather than heartbroken sod; you're welcome."

He'd been expecting it, but Scorpius grumbled as he flipped the page and found the customary picture of himself and Rose, cheeks pressed together, squinting in the Spanish sun. He'd given it to the _Prophet_ himself, once upon a time.

"Exactly. Cuffey just told me I'm not covering the wedding itself, which is absolute bollocks if you ask me, or I'd make you buy me drinks as thanks for not exposing you as the loser you are. Says he wants to see you, by the way."

That couldn't be good. Scorpius folded the paper up and stuck it under his arm for later, all the better to mope over in private. "Cheers, Houghy, I'll go see the big man now."

* * *

There were worse bosses than Barnabas Cuffe, probably, but Scorpius still hated every meeting with the man. He was sat in his office, which was papered floor to ceiling with _Daily Prophet_ covers. A number of these featured Harry Potter, and Scorpius bit back a smile at the memory of Rose telling him how much her Uncle Harry despised the rag.

"Scorpius, m'boy!" Cuffe greeted, setting his peacock feather quill back into its pewter stand. It was an effort for Scorpius to keep his mouth from twisting scornfully - the only writing Cuffe did these days was his lunch orders. "I see you've got our latest edition, well, well. Would have liked to have broken the news to you personally, but couldn't risk somebody getting the scoop on us. You know how it is."

Scorpius did, in fact, having worked at the newspaper for eight years by that point. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Albus Potter told me last night, actually, but I appreciate the thought."

The smug look faded right off Cuffe's face. Perhaps that had been a mistake; Scorpius usually tried not to remind the newspaper editor of his connection to the Potter family. "Got your finger right on the pulse, that's what I like about you, Scorpius, son," Barnabas said, with the appearance of having sucked on a lemon. "That's why you're in here, as it happens. Dorette told me about your proposal."

 _This_ was unexpected. Scorpius straightened up, eyeing Cuffe with interest. His sub-editor had poured cold water all over his suggestion of a regular travel feature, but maybe the idea wasn't as dead as it had appeared. He'd only started testing the water with it in the last eighteen months, but he'd thought it had been well-received, and had been disappointed that Dorette had turned him down.

"It's going to need some looking into, and I wouldn't expect to be able to send you for a couple of months, you see. These things are delicate. Can't send any Tom, Dick, or Scorpius haring off. Say, why don't you take a seat?"

Scorpius slid into the chair indicated, a sense of foreboding pricking down his spine.

"In the meantime, I've got a small job for you - won't be difficult. It'll probably feel like a holiday to you, a chance to spend time with your dear friends. You'll be covering the Weasley-Miller wedding."

Fantastic. Nothing started his week off like some bribery. No wonder his travel feature had been revitalised. "I'm not an entertainment journalist," Scorpius tried, knowing it was fruitless. At any rate, he wouldn't want his colleagues who _did_ work in that department within five miles of Rose. Most of them described her as a 'frigid bitch', and those were the ones who liked her.

"We can always find somebody else," Cuffe allowed, spreading his hands wide. He was party to the same office gossip as Scorpius, and knew what 'finding somebody else' would mean. Scorpius had read the articles covering Rose's parents' wedding. Not even the accolade of being war heroes had saved them from a scathing review. Rose's dad was known to quote lines from it for laughs, but Scorpius didn't want that for Rose. Better some banal trash she could forget as soon as she'd read it. If she ever did read it.

Reluctantly, aware Cuffe had prepared his line of attack well, Scorpius stood. "Fine. I'll be working out of my flat until the wedding, if that suits you."

"I'll have Romilda owl you an outline of what we're expecting from the articles," Cuffe said, picking his quill back up and returning to his lunch menu. It worked as a dismissive gesture, though less well since Scorpius was familiar with the content Cuffe was so earnestly perusing.

Scorpius pulled a face, noting the plural. "I'll start gathering opinions of the family and friends, lend the article a bit of colour."

"Excellent."

* * *

"Fuck."

Scorpius flopped down onto Albus's sofa. "Tell me about it." He wriggled, finding a trainer stuffed between the cushions, and lobbed it at Albus. "Had to say yes."

"Yeah. I mean, she'll kill you. Merlin, don't tell her you told me first. If you could pretend we don't talk anymore, that would be great."

Scorpius located the other trainer, and also tossed that in Albus's direction. "Some friend you are."

" _Prophet_ says I'm your best friend, actually. Envious of your stack of girls. Mikey nearly snorted his cornflakes this morning, though I'm not sure whether it was at my alleged envy, or your fictional stack of girls."

Out of enemy shoes (and knowing he'd never get his own pair back), Scorpius sacrificed a cushion to throw at Albus this time. He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering when his life had turned to shit. "If you don't behave, I'll be forced to find another workplace." He let out a small 'oof' as Albus returned the cushion with gusto, right to Scorpius's stomach.

"God forbid," Mikey said by way of greeting, picking up the errant shoes. "If only the _Prophet_ provided you with somewhere like that. Somewhere with a desk, and all the ink and paper a lowly scribe such as you could desire."

Scorpius clutched at his heart. "Keep talking that way, and I'll assume you don't want me here."

Albus turned to Mikey, his eyes lighting up. "Keep talking that way." Traitor.

Mikey grinned, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. "What's the mission this time? 'Is the length of your lawn offending your neighbour?' 'Should we refer to 'Wendelin the Weird' as 'Wendelin the Slightly Odd'?'."

It was a good thing they amused each other, Scorpius thought darkly, picking at the cushion's tassels as he waited for the laughter to cease.

"Unsolicited wedding guest," clarified Albus, sobering, and giving Mikey a significant look.

Additional guests reminded Scorpius of Jeremiah's off-hand comment. "Say, Al, the _Prophet_ reckons the wedding's rushed because Rose is, you know." He swallowed hard, not sure he wanted to hear an affirmative response.

Their faces held mirrored pitying expressions. Albus began to mumble something, but Mikey interjected. "It's not rushed, Scor." He held up a hand, staving off Scorpius's protest that two weeks _was_ bloody hasty, thank you very much. "Ethan proposed six months ago."

Well. That was unexpected. Scorpius sat up, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, winded in a different manner. After the past year or two of watching the papers recording her relationship with that idiot, he felt dismayed at the acuteness of the pain. This was what it was going to be like from now on, wasn't it? He'd sought comfort in having been advised ahead of the press as though he were still part of the family. It shouldn't be such a shock to discover it had been a gesture, rather than a real confidence. "Okay."

It made sense. Rose had probably held off as long as she could before releasing the news. Probably hoped the media wouldn't be able to infiltrate.

"Scor, I wanted to tell you."

"You did tell me," Scorpius assured him, with a lightness he couldn't feel. He could almost hear Rose teasing him for his dramatics, that wide grin on her face, the way she used to be able to draw him out of all but the worst moods. Time to move on, literally and figuratively. "Now, I'm supposed to be meeting my photographer, so if you think you can cope without me for a few hours, I'll be on my way."

* * *

"Ugh, Gryffindors."

Scorpius nudged Aurora Zabini with his foot. "Didn't realise you were still at Hogwarts, Rory. The rest of us left some time ago."

Aurora pulled a face at him, sticking out her tongue and using her fingers to widen her mouth. He wondered if any of the men he saw flocking around Aurora whenever she was in the Leaky got to see her like this. "Darling, we must get you a sense of humour one of these days. It's too cruel to leave a _Slytherin_ without one."

He snorted, thinking he could definitely see the funny side of having to cover his ex's wedding. "Anyway, they're not all Gryffindors. You've got Al and Mikey, Victoire and Teddy. Louis."

"You aren't helping your case," Aurora pronounced, arranging her skirt as she leaned back in her chair. She resembled a stock photo from a glossy magazine. In fact, Scorpius thought as he glanced around her flat, she most likely _did_ use it as a basis for her pictures. Guiltily, he recalled his own dingy place, which would only be photographed in a 'what not to do' context.

"There's no point pretending you're going to say no." Scorpius linked his hands behind his head and stretched in the plush armchair. "The article will be read by practically every witch or wizard in the country, and several abroad. Miller is vain enough to want to have the photos blown up in his shitty hotels, too, so there's that."

She laid a hand on his knee, and he glanced up to find that tell-tale sympathy in her eyes. Merlin, he couldn't spend the next fortnight with people looking at him like that. "Darling, are you okay with it all? Hang my reputation. If you want her to look like a horse, I'll make her look like a horse."

"I can always ask Caoimhe Finnigan instead."

"Don't toy with me, Scorpius, we both know you'd take the photos yourself before you'd work with that ham-fisted troll. Let's get snapping before Weasley tries to ban you from Devon."

* * *

Devon could wait. Scorpius had a suspicion that the Granger-Weasley Berkshire residence would prove more fruitful, and he was right. Rose's mother opened the door to them, and sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "Why do I get the feeling you're here on mischief rather than pleasure?"

"Experience, I imagine," Scorpius replied with a sheepish grin. He was glad that he'd instructed Aurora not to take any pictures of him as Hermione drew him into a tight hug.

"I suppose this is your photographer. Aurora Zabini, isn't it? Come on through. First sign of trouble and I'm writing to your mother, Scorpius."

"She never forgets a face," Scorpius whispered, to Aurora's blank stare. He hadn't sent any word of their intention to drop by, so he assumed Albus had already spread the word.

"You have no idea how terrifying that is," Aurora murmured in return, following Hermione through the house.

Scorpius hung back, looking around the hallway. Things had changed since his last visit. He'd expected the photos featuring him to have gone, but it was still a shock to see them replaced with frames of Rose and Ethan. He leaned closer, as though something might be found in their expressions by increased proximity.

"Funny, it's almost as though you're skulking out here because you don't think you'll be welcome inside."

And, like that, he turned to face the real Rose.

Three years hadn't changed her much, though Scorpius supposed he'd seen glimpses of her in the papers. He wondered if she found him altered. If he'd expected her to be relieved that he was the one writing her story, he was disappointed. Her arms were folded, and she stood in the doorway to the living room, framed by the natural light streaming through. Had he been the photographer, he'd have snapped a photo then. As it was, he took out a Quick Quotes Quill, which he'd pocketed to annoy her.

"Bride favours the natural look, unencumbered by societal pressure to be presentable at all times," he drawled, sticking his hands in his pockets and eyeing her torn jeans. The quill scribbled away beside him.

"Bride tells talentless hack to get lost," she snapped back.

Roused by the raised voices (or, more likely, by Hermione), Ron appeared behind his daughter. "Scorpius! Have a seat; I'll put the kettle on."

With a smug smile and no small feeling of relief, Scorpius and his Quick Quotes Quill slid past Rose and into the living room.

It wasn't true that half the battle was getting in the door, as so many of his colleagues purported. Rose marched straight past him into the garden, and Hermione's face said loud and clear that it would have been foolish for him to have hoped for anything more. It had still gone better than the last time he'd seen her. He rubbed his forehead, choosing the seat next to the Weasleys' curmudgeonly Kneazle. Thor hadn't changed, lazily batting Scorpius with his tail until Scorpius began to stroke him.

"Well, no point in this thing sitting around gathering dust," Aurora volunteered after a pause, indicating her camera. "Mrs Weasley, would you mind if I took some pictures of your beautiful house?"

Hermione fixed her with an unimpressed look. "The kitchen is the first door on the right, past the stairs. Ron will show you around, and we'll require prior approval of any photos you use of our house. I will expect properly drafted release forms."

"That's the nicest I've ever heard you be to anybody who works for the _Daily Prophet_ ," Scorpius commented, feeling more himself as Aurora disappeared in search of the kitchen. Any time Hermione uttered the name of the newspaper, he was quite sure she was pronouncing it as 'Profit'.

The smile on Hermione's face was positively devious. "Ron's got a new mixer in the kitchen - she won't see any other rooms. Put that quill away already or I'll let Thor at it. I've seen enough of those things to last me a lifetime."

Scorpius plucked the offending item out of the air and shoved it back into his bag. Disgruntled by the movement, Thor rested his paws on Scorpius's lap, as if warning him against further disruption. "I don't suppose you've got a quote for me, as the doting mother of the bride?"

"Oh, Scorpius," she said, in much the same tone he imagined his own mother would use. He dug his teeth into his lower lip, concentrating on stroking Thor. "You know I wish you two had been able to work things out."

"Not sure that's the angle the _Prophet_ 's looking for," he replied, once he was sure he had mastery of his own voice. "Let me know if anything pithy comes to mind which happens to involve your Riddle-solving youth."

Hermione laughed, but it didn't quite dispel the atmosphere.

* * *

The next morning, Scorpius was awoken by the sound of somebody trying to break down his door.

He reached for his wand, debating if scrounging a few minutes longer in bed would be worth letting the intruder succeed and dealing with the mess later. Grudgingly determining that his nosy Muggle neighbours would mean he had to shell out for a new door rather than use _Reparo_ , he got to his feet.

"All right, all right," he called through the door, fumbling with the keys (another price to pay for the Muggle neighbourhood). "They can hear you all the way down the road, you know."

He was pretty sure it was Rose on the other side. If he were a betting man, he'd wager Albus had handed over Scorpius's address at the first time of asking. Albus's keen sense of self-preservation tended to win out over friendship.

At least she'd stopped trying to dent the wood. By the time he'd unlocked it, she was standing with her hands on her hips, looking fit to burst.

"Ah, the blushing bride. What a pleasant surprise! You look luminescent. No…" He frowned, tilted his head. "No, incandescent. How can I help you?"

Rose thrust that day's _Prophet_ in his face. "You didn't waste any time, did you? Honestly, Scorpius, how can you be making money off me?"

Scorpius noted that, whilst he hadn't made the front page with his article, the headline splashed across it read _Racing down the aisle - Rose's heartbroken ex reveals all on page four_. Well. Not the worst preface they could have chosen, he supposed. "Huh. I wonder what bumped us to page four."

"The fact that you write like a troll with a thesaurus."

It was tempting to leave Rose on the doorstep, but compassion for his neighbours prevailed. Someone ought to get a lie in, even if that someone wasn't him. He stepped back, holding the door open. She made to brush past him, but fell foul of his wards, which knocked her flat on her back.

"Whoops!" Scorpius said, holding his hand to his mouth in disingenuous horror. To tell the truth, it had been a while since he'd had any new visitors to his flat, so the mechanisms of the wards his father had helped him install had slipped his mind. It would be a memory he would cherish in the coming weeks, though. "Guess my flat thinks you're an intruder. Can't think why."

She scrambled to her feet, a line appearing between her eyebrows as she frowned. "Scorpius, don't be petty. I'm here to talk."

"Could have fooled me. Seems more likely that you woke up this morning with the urge to break down my door."

Her hands balled into fists at that. "Please. Will you let me in?"

Guessing what that had cost her, Scorpius deactivated the wards with a touch of his wand to the doorway. "My lady." He bowed his head, laying a hand over his heart. For his troubles, the paper was flung in his face as she shoved past.

"Well, I can see why your flat might prefer to keep people out," she called through, and Scorpius rolled his eyes, awaiting the insult. "If I looked like this, I wouldn't want people to see me either."

It wasn't an unfair comment, as it happened. Scorpius's father was fastidious, and he'd grown up ensuring everything was always in its proper place. The Slytherin dormitories had dismantled some of those habits, and the rest had fallen away in the following years. Actually, Scorpius couldn't be confident he'd used a cleaning charm all week. "You know where the door is."

Rose turned to face him, which thankfully meant she had her back to his pile of dirty washing. "Merlin, Scor - I had no idea you could be so unfeeling. You've turned into a mercenary."

He crossed his arms, leaning against the door-frame, reluctant to enter the living room-cum-kitchen for fear of crowding her. She'd liked her space, at least when they were at odds with one another. "I must have misunderstood what you meant when you told me that I was all about the money before, then."

The memory of their last fight flickered over her face, but she covered it with a shake of her head. "Does this mean you're going to continue with your silly articles?"

Scorpius shrugged, doing his best to keep his expression impassive. "Getting paid for it, aren't I? Isn't that what matters to me?"

She gave him a searching look. She'd claimed she could read him like a book, but he supposed that had changed in the intervening years. "I had thought-"

He never found out what she had thought of him, though he could hazard a guess. There was a smart rat-a-tat on the door, and Aurora's voice followed, clear as a bell. "Scorpius, get your marvellous arse out of bed before I let myself in."

"I should get that - it's so rude to keep people waiting. I can show you out at the same time. I know you Gringotts lot value efficiency."

Rose didn't say anything as she followed him the short distance down the hall, nor when he opened the door to find Aurora propped up against it, the embodiment of _Witch Weekly_ 's style segment. "Darling, you are going to love me even more than you-" She broke off, having spied Rose.

"I'm leaving," Rose clarified, though she seemed to be hanging back, and Aurora smiled in return.

"Of course you are; don't let me keep you! I'll squeeze past while you say your goodbyes - I am _dying_ for a coffee."

When Aurora stepped over the threshold without incident, Scorpius felt Rose stiffen next to him. The explanation that he had disabled the wards sat on the tip of his tongue. Then, he recalled the way she had declared he would sell his soul for a few extra coins in his vault, and he stayed silent. She slipped out without a further word.

He found Aurora stood in Rose's place, surveying his flat with even more disdain than Rose had mustered. "Here lies Scorpius Malfoy, single man."

Scorpius held his hands up. "All right, I get it. What have you got for me, Rory?"

"An invitation to poke around the Burrow. I'll get time to work out the best shots, and we can chat to good old Grandmother Weasley whilst we're there. If you'd like to drop in on your parents and beg them to take you back, that would be fine as well. I'd be delighted to _Incendio_ this pile of junk."

He rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly. "Give me five minutes to get dressed."

* * *

The Burrow was one of his favourite places in the world. Malfoy Manor, for all its grandeur, never came close. If he'd been in any doubt about his welcome given he was now definitively an interloper, Nana Molly sweeping him into a hug put paid to it. Aurora was greeted in much the same fashion despite being a stranger, and they were sitting in the kitchen with steaming mugs of tea before they knew it.

"Molly has the best scones for five counties," Scorpius announced to Aurora, with a sly wink at Molly.

"Get away with you," Molly said fondly, waving her wand at the kitchen counter. A covered plate sailed over, landing with a wiggle in the middle of the table. "I'm afraid there aren't scones today, though I do have some flapjacks. I'll rustle up sandwiches for later; no sense you working on an empty stomach."

Scorpius proclaimed her an angel, and even Aurora lost the stiff edge she'd carried in the Granger-Weasley household. They were midway through a discussion of the seating plan for the wedding (Molly, for all her baking prowess, appeared to have forgotten she was talking to a journalist) when a door banged shut elsewhere in the house. All of a sudden, Scorpius recalled which Weasley favoured flapjacks.

Sure enough, Hugo's grinning face poked around the kitchen door. "Nana! You should have told me you needed rescuing."

Scorpius kept his gaze focused on the dappled light on the tabletop, his foot tapping restlessly. He hadn't anticipated any other family members that day, even though the Burrow operated an open door policy. After the morning's confrontation with Rose, her brother was the last Weasley Scorpius wanted to contend with. Moreover, Hugo was prepared for _them_. Greetings dispensed with, Hugo was pulling a large roll of parchment out of his bag. And then another. And another.

"Morning, reprobates. One or two things you'll need to sign before penning another word on the nuptials, or getting your shots off."

The parchment was covered in Hugo's cramped scrawl. It would take hours to read through, and they'd lose the whole day. Aurora placed her hand over Scorpius's, preventing him unfurling any more of it. "We're ever so grateful, I'm sure, but really, this looks far too complicated for me to handle. All I do is press a button. Why don't I send this to my lawyer to read, and he can explain it to me in words of two syllables or fewer?"

Hugo shrugged at her. "Seems awful formal, getting lawyers involved," he said in a would-be casual voice, but Scorpius caught the glance he flicked at Molly. "All we're doing is making sure my sister's wedding isn't ruined by the press."

Aurora laughed even as she gathered the rolls in her arms. "The press? I hardly think Scorpius counts as 'the press'. You should have heard how many journalists Cuffe tried to send until Scorpius put his foot down. 'I won't have it,' he said. 'I owe her a proper wedding day, even if I'm not the one to give it to her.'"

The performance wasn't for Hugo at all, Scorpius realised, as a misty-eyed Molly started bustling around the kitchen. He had to hand it to Aurora, even though his cheeks were going to be stained red for weeks.

"Mrs Weasley, would you mind _terribly_ if I used your Floo? I've never been able to get my head around legalese, and I really wouldn't want to be the one holding up everything. I'll be back before you've missed me."

"That could take years," Hugo said dryly. Ignoring him, Molly waved Aurora off, setting a fresh cup of tea down before Scorpius, although he'd yet to finish the first. "Malfoy. Expect you'll want to be heading to work, since you won't be able to do anything here."

Scorpius stretched his legs out under the table, making it clear he was at ease in Hugo's grandmother's house. It was as though Hugo thought those were the first legal documents he'd seen. "Nah, can't see that changing anything, though we'll be getting you to sign our own release forms, of course. I'd hate to have to trouble Molly _again_ after this, not when you're all going to be so busy with preparations. Besides, the issue would be if we intended to publish our work before the agreements are signed - which we wouldn't dream of doing."

"You're trespassing."

"Hugo Weasley, you stop that right now. This is my house, and I will decide who stays under this roof. Scorpius, dear, have a flapjack."

It was the most satisfying thing Scorpius had ever eaten, but he should have guessed that Hugo wouldn't give up easily. Of course Hugo may have picked his weapon of choice better if Scorpius hadn't studiously avoided any events which would feature the Granger-Weasley siblings since his break-up with Rose. Lily Potter might be a handful but, as it transpired, she was only too pleased to be drafted in. Just not for the reasons Hugo might have hoped.

"He's an absolute horror!" she exclaimed, flinging a gnome over the fence with gusto. "Scor, he's so boring, I can't even make myself sit through a dinner with him. He's building an empire, and I thought he meant like, a _Roman_ empire or something, but apparently he wants his hotels to take over the _world._ "

Scorpius hefted a gnome. They were permitted to use magic these days, but there was something eminently satisfying about hurling the creatures as far as he could. He needed to de-stress after the Hugo encounter. "Lily, I'm sure any world domination on his part is going to be strictly confined to the business of guest accommodation."

"No doubt." Lily apparently didn't share his views on physical labour. She brandished her wand, levitating nine gnomes in one go, sending them floating off into the distance. "A personality is key to building a cult of personality."

As much as he tried not to (he'd had enough of being painted as the bitter ex), Scorpius burst out laughing. "Merlin, Lily, how'd he get your knickers in a twist?"

With a comical glance over at the kitchen window, Lily sat on the grass out of its view, pulling Scorpius down with her. "I can't be sure," she demurred, and Scorpius's curiosity spiked. "He invited us for dinner at his hotel, and there just _happened_ to be that muppet from _Witch Weekly_ to document everything. Mum thinks he's a bit of a shit. Can't you tell Rose you're still in love with her?"

It was as though someone had poured cold water down his spine. He'd thought he'd tucked that part of him away. The idea that it was on view to her family was unsettling. "I'm not here to interfere, Lily. Rose can marry whomever she wants."

"If you're not here to get in Rose's head, why _are_ you here?"

"Because if it wasn't me, it would be somebody else," he said gently, brushing a spider from his knee. "Burgeoning emperors get a lot of attention from our rags, Roman or not, and people will always be interested in your family. Rory and I will be in and out with minimal disruption."

Lily sighed, flopping back on the grass, squinting into the sun. " _Fine_ , you win. I'm having some drinks tonight at the Leaky; celebrating the end of my potions apprenticeship. You should come along. Bring Rory." Scorpius started to protest, but Lily talked right over him. "Rose isn't coming, stop fretting."

* * *

They turned up to Lily's drinks at eight as requested. Aurora complained that nobody expected her to show up on time and this would create a horrible precedent, but Scorpius wasn't keen on arriving when everybody else was half-cut.

Aurora shoved Scorpius in the direction of the bar, with strict instructions not to allow the bar staff to give her one of their popular liquorice straws, on pain of death (his or theirs). Scorpius suspected this had rather a lot to do with an enchanted cloud of Liquorice Snaps which had followed her round school for two days.

After purchasing their drinks, he found she'd opted for a table to the side of the main group. She continued fiddling with her camera as he approached, tapping through the day's pictures at speed. She paused on one of Hugo and Molly, Hugo's dour expression a stark contrast to Molly's beam. "When you begged me to help you with this project, you didn't mention Hugo fucking Weasley."

Scorpius gave Aurora a lazy smile, ignoring her inflammatory word choice. "Of course not. I don't need you to take pictures of that Weasley, unless he shows up to the Burrow in a veil ready to marry Miller."

Her expression was sour as she packed away her camera. "All right, I've taken the job now, and somehow you've landed me in the middle of a Weasley event with no discernible reason for us to be here. Who cares that Lily can chuck a few more things in a cauldron? Come on, spill. Who are the hostile Weasleys?"

Aurora was right; there was no reason for them to be mixing with the Weasleys. In fact, even though he'd probably have shown up if he wasn't working on the story, since he _was_ , integrating with the family was not a good idea. It made things messy. Messier.

He fiddled with the handle of his tankard, surveying the room. "Hugo and Rose will be the worst of it," he promised, though Freddie was difficult more often than he wasn't, and James was a law unto himself. They weren't _hostile,_ though. "And they're not here tonight."

"They've got some convincing doppelgangers, in that case."

Scorpius's head shot up, hoping that Aurora was joking - but unfortunately not. Albus clocked the new entrants at the same time, and Scorpius watched him zero in on his sister. Of course Lily was responsible. Maybe he should have guessed she was up to something earlier, but she had been so reassuring. He felt oddly betrayed, unsure whether to leave or brave it out.

Whilst he was caught in indecision, Rose marched over. "Merlin's balls, Scorpius, are you going to follow me around until I say 'I do'? Let me know - I'll bring the wedding forward."

"Looked like you were following _him_ around this morning." Aurora stirred her drink, sending a skein of blue smoke into the air. "Or did I misinterpret you showing up at his flat?"

Scorpius placed a hand over Aurora's, as though he could stop the metaphorical stirring simply by bringing a halt to the physical act. "Rose, I wasn't aware you'd be here. In fact, I was pretty damn sure you wouldn't be."

"I think I have an explanation for that," Albus added grimly, depositing Lily into the middle.

Lily shrugged. "I ran into Rose after I spoke to you. I didn't want to be rude, or make either of you feel like I was picking sides."

"You ran into me _at my house_ ," Rose interjected, voice climbing in the way it did when she was agitated. "Lily, Ethan's coming."

"What of it?" Hugo asked, taking his eyes off the smoke patterns puffing from Aurora's drink. Scorpius realised his hand was still covering hers, and removed it. "Ethan's about to become part of the family."

"And Scorpius was invited here," Aurora replied sunnily, "so why don't you both take yourselves off to spoil somebody else's party? The two of us are having a lovely time - or we were."

Not even Scorpius, most of his attention on Rose, missed the implication, reinforced with Aurora's hand on his inner thigh.

"There you have it," Albus announced, giving Hugo a shove in the direction of the bar. "Nothing to see here, just separate groups looking to have a good time independently of each other." He pushed Rose and Lily after Hugo, and then laid his hands on the table, speaking in a low tone. "If I were a curious sort, I'd make enquiries about the convenience of this happy little union."

"Good job you aren't the curious sort," Aurora said blandly.

"That, or I've had my fill of trouble for the day. Farewell, lovebirds."

Loathe to arouse suspicion, Scorpius picked up Aurora's camera, in lieu of demanding answers from her. It was a more modern one than he was accustomed to, but she'd shown him how to use it on previous collaborations. He flipped through the pictures on the viewing screen, stopped, and then flipped back through. "Huh."

Aurora flicked the switch, shutting the screen down. "Don't. And don't start on that other thing - I did you a favour. How can you stand the way they all look at you, like you're a Crup who doesn't know his tail's about to be sliced? When Miller's going to walk in here as though he owns the Alleys-"

As if she'd summoned him, Ethan Miller entered the bar. Shit. Scorpius hadn't fully comprehended until that moment that he'd be witness to his ex's new romance - that he'd got himself a front row seat to their _wedding_.

"I think," he said slowly, fiddling with the camera's straps, anything to avoid watching Rose greet him, "I think I may have made a mistake."

"Interesting. I owe Dad a Galleon. I bet him that you wouldn't see the light until she was halfway down the aisle," Aurora teased, but countered her flippant tone with a squeeze to his arm. "I can get us out of this if you want. I've got some… minor leverage on Cuffe."

Curious, Scorpius considered it for a moment, but he shook his head. "Save it. We're still in the same situation. If I don't do this, someone else will."

"Let them."

He opened his mouth to defend himself, to point out that with his name attached, the paper had enough potential scandal to sell copies without the need to fabricate tensions, but somebody spoke across him. "You must be the pair covering our wedding."

It was, oddly, the most enthusiasm anyone bar Cuffe had mustered for the articles. Scorpius turned in his chair to face Ethan who unfortunately turned out to be more attractive in person, if you liked disarming grins and twinkling eyes.

"Sorry about that," Scorpius apologised, and although he directed it more to his Butterbeer than Ethan, nobody called him out on it.

"Not to worry," Ethan said easily, his hands in his pockets. Most of the group were in work robes, but Ethan was comfortable in Muggle office attire. Scorpius wondered if this was Ethan's empire expansion outfit, and suppressed a smirk as he recalled Lily's personality-less cult comment. "Any publicity is good publicity."

Since Scorpius had once written an article which had resulted in the collapse of his favourite bar (he hadn't _meant_ for it to close, he'd explained to an initially sympathetic Rose, he'd just wanted to see if other people agreed it had gone downhill), he disagreed. Ethan, however, wouldn't have been able to tell from the bland smile offered. "A man after my own heart."

The remark clanged in the silence which followed.

"Let me know if you need anything," Ethan said eventually, before turning back to the bar.

"That went well," Aurora commented.

Scorpius put his face in his hands. He'd had a propensity when he was younger of turning floors into rubber (don't ask, he thought it might be an early encounter with a trampoline). He wished he could re-harness that power, until the polished tiles of the Leaky were malleable enough to let him slip beneath. "Oh, sweet Merlin, why did I say that?"

"I hate him."

He managed a half-smile. "You do not."

"I want to hate him. I'll make it work. Right - if we're going to stick this out, I'm going to get some proper liquor. It surely can't get any worse."

* * *

It didn't - not that evening, at least. Scorpius and Aurora spent much of the next day sifting through the lawyer's notes and redrafting Hugo's conditions.

"This jerk expects us to stand through the entire ceremony!"

"He doesn't," Scorpius explained wearily, striking through the eighteenth demand for final approval. "He's checking that we've read it all. It's his idea of a joke."

"You're my idea of a joke."

"Charming."

Eventually, they reached a compromise they hoped wouldn't be rejected out of hand, and Aurora fled the library, claiming she needed to work on a few commissions. Scorpius suspected it was a half-truth, but accepted it at face value. They were spending a lot more time together than he'd anticipated, after all, and he couldn't blame her for needing a breather.

Working on something new wasn't a bad idea, he mused, grabbing his quill. He rarely sat in the public library, hardly ever passed through Raven's Close (colloquially known as 'Litter Alley') since the Prophet's offices were right at the top. It had been Rose's haven during her Gringotts' lunch hours, but there was no reason he had to avoid it now. In all truth, since Cuffe seemed to sniff him out the second he stepped onto Prophet premises, it was a much more desirable place to write.

Cuffe had promised him free reign on his travel writing features. Scorpius began to sketch out a plan, taking advantage of the small selection of travel books. He'd probably start with a European trip or two, before venturing further afield.

"Slovenia. Don't tell me you're making my dreams come true by leaving the country?"

Rose.

Well, that was his luck all over, really, wasn't it?

Scorpius turned, finding her face closer than he'd expected - from her expression, she hadn't anticipated him moving. He brought a finger to his lips. "This is a library."

" _I_ know that," she replied in an undertone, taking the seat next to him. "I didn't know _you_ did."

Briefly, painfully, as she withdrew a set of papers from her bag, he was reminded of their study sessions at Hogwarts, legs tangled together under the table. He scored through his final line, deepening the scribble with a scowl. He hadn't been this near to her in years, and she was acting as though no time had passed.

"My lawyer got in touch with some nifty work you've knocked up," Rose offered after a beat. "Thanks for that."

He huffed out a laugh, not bothering to look at her. "You're shitting me, right? That's your brat of a brother's fault - he served us with papers at Nana Molly's."

"He did what? Hold on, you're dragging Nana Molly into this?"

"I have a brief to follow," Scorpius replied evenly, dipping his quill in the ink pot.

She scoffed in response.

He tried to continue his outline, but Rose's presence next to him had driven coherent thought from his mind. "I'm glad to see you're following Nana Molly's advice," he murmured and, following her questioning look, added, "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."

Rose covered her mouth, but he could see the way her eyes crinkled in amusement. "You're such an arse. Come on, you can give me the gist of these over coffee. Go light on the jargon." When he didn't move, she nudged him. "My treat."

Like money was the issue. Scorpius packed up his belongings anyway, knowing he would concede. He'd never been good at refusing Rose. "If you're thinking of The Chipped Cup, you should brush your hair for tomorrow's front cover."

He fastened the clasp of his bag so he wouldn't have to look at her. In truth, it wasn't the threat of the papers that kept him from their favoured tea-shop. He'd loved sitting there amongst the whistling kettles and bursts of coloured steam, but he'd loved sitting there with Rose. It was right next to his work, but he couldn't face going there on his own. He thought it would be even worse going with Rose when she was ten days away from marrying somebody else.

"Foyles has a nice coffee shop," she ventured, naming the big Muggle bookstore further down Charing Cross Road. "They even do jelly beans."

"Well, if there are jelly beans, you can count me in," he said dryly, following her out of the library.

* * *

"All right," Rose declared, setting her tray down between them. "Summarise for me, paperboy."

It was overly familiar, and something in Scorpius rebelled. She'd got one pot of tea and one container of jelly beans between them, as though they were friends who didn't mind sharing. When they'd been dating, they'd played at 'what's mine is yours', but things were different now. He didn't have the patience for this. "Out with it, Weasley."

"Out with - what?" She rocked the table, testing the evenness of the legs. "Could you pass me a napkin? The table's wobbly."

His fingertips clenched the tabletop, preventing her from moving it again. Petty, but he was irritated that she was trying to avoid the issue. "No. Weasley, yesterday you treated me like something you'd stepped on because your cousin invited us both to the same pub, and today you're taking me out for coffee and pretending we're friends. I want to know why."

Rose flipped the pot's lid, and fiddled with the strainer, dunking it in and out of the water. She wouldn't look at him. "It's not easy for me, okay? I don't like it. I don't like seeing you around, I don't like how close you are to my family, and I really, really hate how close you are to my wedding. No, I'm not done." She poured Scorpius's cup and then her own before reaching for the milk.

He tipped his cup straight back into the teapot.

She blinked at the pot for a second, and he wondered if his customary response (" _if I'd wanted boiled water, I'd have asked for it"_ ) was ringing in her ears, too. Then, she met his eyes, and he experienced the sensation that all the air had been sucked out of the room. Rose glanced away first. "Albus gave me a few home truths at the pub last night."

 _This_ was unexpected. Albus's sense of self-preservation usually held firm above all things.

"Told me that you were as good as a brother to him, and that he hated having to tiptoe around and make sure that nobody invited us to the same events. And that I might not like it if I forced him to pick sides. Apparently, you've turned into some sort of saint since we broke up."

Well. "Tell me something I don't know."

It could have gone one of two ways, but thankfully, her mouth twitched. She played with the teaspoon, turning it over in her hands, her engagement ring twinkling in the light. He'd half-forgotten her nervous habits; it was funny, the things he'd assumed would always stay with him. The silence was on the verge of becoming uncomfortable when she cleared her throat. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I was rude to you last night, and that I turned up at your flat uninvited. I still don't want you covering my wedding, and I'm not going to rein Hugo in because, frankly, I have enough on my plate, but I'd like it if we could be civil, especially now we're both moving on."

Aurora, of course. Scorpius focused his attention on the sugar packets on the table, arranging them by colour. "I'm sorry that you don't want me covering your wedding."

"That's… not a real apology."

He smiled at the sugar - her tone, at least, was light. "I really mean it. And I'm truly sorry that you're not going to rein Hugo in."

"I'll have a word with him if you tell me what all these papers say," she bargained, and he chanced a look up at her, haloed by the electric lamp behind her.

"That word had better not be 'persevere'," Scorpius grumbled, reaching for the paperwork. "Fine, you've got me."

Rose's eyes were very wide at that, but she listened to his explanations without interrupting. When he finished, she signed at the bottom with a flourish. "I trust you," she said in answer to his frown. "I'll take these home to Ethan."

Reality wilted the bloom of elation in his chest. "Great."

"I'm pleased you're doing more travel writing, Scorpius," she said quietly, tucking the papers away once more. "You're so good at it; you found your calling."

"You haven't seen me write a wedding yet," he joked, uncomfortable with the praise for a reason he couldn't identify. It wasn't until later that he realised that he had started travel writing after the break-up, that Rose had been awkwardly confessing to following his career.

She wrinkled her nose. "If it's all the same to you, I won't be reading this one either. I doubt anybody wants their ex's opinion on their life after the relationship, much less with the salacious taglines the _Prophet_ will add."

"I'll suggest some myself," he offered, gathering his bag. "'Reports the bride was styled by a troll are unconfirmed'."

"You're terrible," she pronounced, but the grin belied her words, and he thought that was as good as things were going to get between them.

* * *

His assignment was both easier and more difficult after that. Having opened lines of engagement, Rose was eager that they stay that way, and so Scorpius found himself consulted on every aspect of the wedding, from the vows to the napkin shades. Sometimes, he thought she might be testing him, imagining what he might have chosen had it been their wedding.

Other times, he thought she was trying to annoy him.

"I mean, the forest colour matches the bridesmaids' dresses, but do I want my bridesmaids resembling napkins?"

Aurora yawned. She and Hugo were chaperoning conversations between Scorpius and Rose, and Aurora at least made it plain how little she cared for it.

"Sorry," Rose said, looking contrite. "I suppose it's not the most interesting topic of conversation."

"Oh, please continue," Aurora entreated. "We're simply dying for the moment you reveal you're going to pick the cream ones your grandmother showed us last week."

Hugo snorted.

"'Bride considers last minute alterations to force bridesmaids to look like table decorations'," Scorpius mused.

The spirit of mischief alive in her eyes, Aurora snapped a photo of the material dangling from Rose's fingertips.

"You're both awful people," Rose complained without vigour.

"They're journalists. Comes with the territory."

Aurora eyed Hugo, though didn't make her customary protest that she wasn't a journalist. "Says the lawyer."

"Takes an awful person to know one."

Scorpius experienced the uncomfortable realisation that Hugo was joking and, probably, flirting. He caught Rose's eye, and they shared a brief moment of amusement at Hugo's expense, before Scorpius recalled that Aurora was supposed to be his girlfriend.

* * *

"Cuffe wants more scandal."

"Shocking, given you're turning in absolute drivel," Aurora reasoned. She was barefoot, legs dangling over the bank of the River Otter. "I'd have fired you for the article about place seatings."

Scorpius tossed a handful of grass at her. It was true. Now he was back in Rose's good books (and there was no suggestion she would burn her study to be rid of him), he was reluctant to rock the boat. That meant writing the filler Rose was gleefully supplying him. It was going to tank his career. "All right. What would you write?"

"'Journalist covers ex's wedding in bizarre show of masochism'."

"'Photographer's camera missing without a trace'," Scorpius shot back, weighing the piece of equipment in his hand.

Aurora threw a scornful glance his way. "'Journalist missing without a trace'."

"If only."

Scorpius and Aurora exchanged uncertain looks before turning as one to face the laconic Hugo.

"Nana wants Zabini's advice on the lighting in the marquee." Hugo shrugged, kicking a stone loose in the dirt path. "Reckons you've got a vested interest in these photos not looking amateur."

Aurora stood, brushing dust from her skirt and relocating her shoes. "I do hope you put her right, Weasley - otherwise, what is the point in you being an enormous arse all the time?"

She didn't wait for an apology, which was good as Hugo seemed typically reluctant to offer one. Instead, he took Aurora's place on the bank of the river, hands braced behind him. Unhappy at the trade, Scorpius maintained the silence.

"Did I upset your girlfriend?"

Scorpius had become reasonably sure over the last few days that Hugo reciprocated Aurora's regard for him. That was why he was hanging around like a bad smell, rather than the feigned interest in protecting his sister. This question, therefore, had been worded with purpose. He chose to avoid confirming anything. Let Hugo be suspicious. "You don't need me to tell you that you were rude. I'm not your mum."

Hugo made a scoffing sound. "Thanks for the clarification. I guess I'm wondering why you aren't more annoyed, if I've been upsetting your girlfriend."

"I guess I think Aurora can handle herself," Scorpius retorted, mimicking Hugo in his impatience.

Hugo held his hands up in surrender. "What's your goal, Scor?" Wrong-footed, Scorpius simply blinked at him, and Hugo spread his palms wide. "I'm not speaking with any agenda here, and I'm not going to scurry off and say anything if you do confide in me. It's - well, it looks to me like you're still in love with Rose, and if that's true, there's a fair few people who are likely to get hurt."

Sometimes, Hugo was too much like his mother for his own good. Scorpius drew his knees up to his chest, tucking his chin in the hollow between them. "I'm not going to say anything, Hugo. I'm going to write my article, and then that'll be it."

"You're an idiot," Hugo advised him, not one to mince words. "But that's up to you. What about Aurora?"

"She'll be touched to know you're concerned." Scorpius reached for his bag, wondering if he could talk Hugo into an interview for the paper. It might go down better with Cuffe than what Rose was proposing about the profile on their officiant. "Honestly, though, your flirting technique needs revising. Do you normally win girls over on the strength of your name, or have you been going solo?"

Hugo flushed red. "Wanker," he mumbled, but made no attempt to deny it.

Scorpius laughed, surprising himself. "You'd know."

* * *

Deciding that he couldn't leave Aurora to the less-than-tender mercies of his ex's family, particularly not when they thought she was his new girlfriend, Scorpius went in search of her before leaving the Burrow. There was no sign of her or Molly in the marquee or garden, and he had embarked on a search of the house when he came across Rose in the living room.

In her wedding dress.

He stared at her, flushing crimson. It wasn't the gown he'd pictured her in when he'd thought of their own wedding day in some long-lost, hazy daydream (that gown, on reflection, had probably been more exposing than any bride would want). She looked unattainable, regal, less like the Rose he'd loved than she ever had, and maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that would make things easier.

It was on the tip of his tongue to joke that it was bad luck to see her like this before the wedding day. In time, he recalled that he wasn't the groom, and that there weren't any superstitions relating to ex-boyfriends (probably because people in general weren't as stupid or masochistic as Scorpius).

"Oh! I - I was looking for Nana Molly. I need her to get me out of this thing."

He swallowed tightly. "I think she's off with Rory. Let me help."

She hesitated. It seemed an age before she turned, sweeping her hair over one shoulder to grant him better access.

There were a million buttons down the back, and Merlin, Miller was going to have his work cut out for him on the wedding night, and Scorpius was so jealous he could hardly stand it. Hoping Rose couldn't feel the tremors from his hands, he unfastened as quickly as he could. When he'd reached the halfway point, he paused, and she stepped away from him like he'd burned her.

"Thanks, I can take it from here." Rose hurried up the stairs, and Scorpius didn't think he'd imagined her voice sounding strangled.

He should have left then, because that would have been the sensible thing to do, but he didn't (because that would have been the sensible thing to do). In lieu of the pragmatic approach, he opted to make tea.

Without thinking about it, he fixed Rose a weak, overly milky mug, and then contemplated pouring it out in case she thought he was expecting her to spend time with him after the dress fiasco. Before he could make a decision, she had re-emerged.

She was wearing a familiar belted cardigan, and he had to fight the urge not to use the belt to tug her closer, to bring her in for a kiss. He handed her the mug instead.

"I never thanked you for returning my things to Albus."

He stilled, fingers wrapped around the handle of his own mug. They were talking about it, then. "Well. You were pretty clear when you said you didn't want to see me again."

Rose half-smiled. "I, okay, I don't mean this to change anything, but I did think you'd come after me." Scorpius stared at her, because, really, what was he supposed to do with that? She seemed to think better of it, and turned away from him to peer through the window. "It was a lot, wasn't it? That job was awful for me."

"That job?" Scorpius queried, having a horrible, out of body experience.

"Didn't Albus tell you I moved departments? Risk management is much less stressful than M&A. It's sort of how I met Ethan."

Of course it was. Of course, Scorpius would have badgered her for months to change her career path, and of course she wouldn't do it until they broke up, and it would result in her meeting the new love of her life.

"That's great," he replied, addressing the Weasley family clock. He didn't ask how Emperor Ethan, with his conglomerate of hotels, managed the work/life balance.

"Yeah. I think we really got it wrong, you know, living to work, and not working to live."

Scorpius drew in a shaky breath. He couldn't figure out if Rose was saying this because it was not too late, or saying it because it was too late. He had a vague concern that his heart was working overtime, thundering away there in his chest. "Talking of work, would you mind a quick pre-wedding interview? It might prove more popular than the potential new bunting."

It was obvious he'd caught Rose off-balance; she frowned at him for a good minute before her expression cleared. "I'd have to run an interview by Ethan. An off-the-cuff natural conversation with an old friend, well, that's not something I could anticipate you putting in the paper, is it?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Scorpius reached for his quill and paper from his bag, trying to look as though it didn't bother him that she was intending to lie to Miller over this. "Afraid I'm in the habit of transcribing all my casual conversations. So. Off-the-cuff, how are you feeling about the wedding?"

"Nervous," she admitted, leaning against the counter-top. "I keep thinking I'm going to overlook something, and there'll be no cutlery, or the food will spoil, or my dress will tear."

"Merlin forfend," he pronounced, and she laughed. "And-" _Don't ask, don't ask_ \- but how could he not? "-are you happy?"

The smile faded from her face. "Yes, I'm happy."

Well, there it was. Scorpius came up with a few more meaningless questions, more so that they didn't end on that particular note, but the damage had already been done.

* * *

"I'd like to go on the record and say that going to this party is your worst idea yet."

"Duly noted. Good to know you've revised your opinion of my swimming trunks."

Aurora closed her eyes. "Malfoy, two wrongs don't make a right, and another terrible decision doesn't improve any previous terrible decisions. You should be very concerned that you've scored a lower entry than those swimming trunks."

He knew. He couldn't help it. Rose wasn't married yet, that was the problem. It wasn't that he planned on making a move. She was happy, she'd told him she was happy, and there wasn't anything to be gained by telling her that work was no longer the centre of his universe. Still, she didn't get married until tomorrow. Tonight, he could pretend there was a chance it would all be called off.

Moreover, Rose had invited him personally, making him promise to leave his quill and notebook at home. The invitation extended to include Aurora as his supposed girlfriend, but Rose had vowed to break Aurora's camera if she caught so much as a glimpse of it.

"This is sacred family time," she'd told him as they weeded the rose garden post-interview. "Mum says it started with Uncle Bill's wedding, when the family were together because of the war, and sort of spiralled from there. Everybody piles in to help decorate the Burrow the night before the wedding. You'd love it. You should come - can you still do that trick with the glowing flowers?"

He'd teased that she only wanted him for his artistic skills, and she'd laughed, and then Ethan had come to interrupt them, because Scorpius's life stunk, and also Rose was getting married to him.

"I know that look," Aurora warned, fixing her hair into a fancy coil at the nape of her neck. "That's your unbelievably stupid look. Don't you dare live up to it tonight."

"I won't, I won't," he protested.

Satisfied with her own appearance, she turned her attention to Scorpius's. "I've got the good Firewhiskey for tomorrow, darling," she said softly, adjusting his tie. "We'll go to their stupid wedding, tread on as many feet as we can, eat all the cake, and then we'll go and wipe our memories clean."

Scorpius pulled her into a hug. They'd been friends since childhood, more so when he had tried to fill the Rose-shaped void in his life, but he had never treasured her quite like he did just then. "It'll be fine."

"Whatever you say. I mean, I think you're going to watch the love of your life get married to someone else tomorrow, and that's going to suck, but maybe I'm wrong."

"Maybe it'll give me some closure." This was Mikey's mindset, and Albus had been sceptical, but Scorpius had clung to the hope because he didn't have much else. He felt sure now that they could have made it work if they'd tried again, but then it was only her wedding that had thrown them together once more.

"That's about as likely as me being appointed Minister for Magic."

He grinned, and swept a bow. "Lead the way, Minister."

* * *

His first thought when arriving at the Burrow was that he must have exited at the wrong Floo point. Aurora appearing hot on his heels put paid to that, but the living room remained sleek in ways the Burrow had never been.

"Did they gut the place?" Aurora whispered.

It looked like it, though Scorpius could now discern the general unevenness of the Burrow beneath the polished interior. Black and white tiles gleamed underfoot, and a cocktail bar sat in place of the overstuffed sofa. Scorpius felt as though he'd walked into one of Miller's hotels, which was presumably the idea.

"Nana's upset," Albus said in an undertone, by way of greeting. "They finished about an hour ago; it's all flashy spells. She keeps saying she understands, and who would have thought the Burrow could look like this, but Lily caught her in tears earlier."

Scorpius pursed his lips, forcing himself not to voice his opinion. "Wasn't this evening about everybody pitching in to prepare the venue?"

"Now it's about getting drunk." Mikey had obviously dressed for the former, in shabby jeans and a Weasley jumper. Scorpius had his own too somewhere, had never been able to bring himself to get rid of it. "Miller's kindly supplied such classics as Augurey Sneeze and Peckish Infusion of Liquorice."

Aurora shuddered, presumably at the liquorice reference. "What happened to good old-fashioned champagne?"

Mikey winked at her. "There might be a supply of fairy wine for those in the know. Why don't you come with me?"

And just like that, despite having sworn she wouldn't leave Scorpius's side, Aurora was drawn away.

"Lily's on the warpath." Albus sighed, and scuffed his foot along the floor - harder the second time, leaving a trace of the rubber sole on the white square. "She's been trying to pull Mikey in on something all day. I know this is a bit shit, Scorpius, but could you keep an eye on her, try to make sure she doesn't cause any trouble?"

"Oh, no." Scorpius held his hands up. "I'm planning on getting as drunk as Tears of a House Elf enables. There is no way I'm trying to second-guess Lily's fiendish mind, thank you very much. Make her your dad's problem."

Before Albus could talk him into it, he made off for the bar.

* * *

Aurora had been right - this party could have been crowned king of a series of bad decisions. There was a conspiracy against him drinking, and Miller's parents were some of the worst people to walk the Earth. Fame-hungry would be a more appropriate term. Once they had discovered Scorpius was a journalist, he'd feared that he'd never get free of them. Ron had, thankfully, taken pity on him, and pushed him into Arthur's workroom, which was both unoccupied and fascinating.

Well. It had been unoccupied, and then Lily crashed through the door.

"I'm looking for Rose. Nana's roped your girlfriend into taking some pre-wedding family shots. I guess it makes sense to put her to use, finally."

"As you can see, she's not here," Scorpius replied tersely, wondering why he couldn't make himself get up and leave. It was the 'one more sleep' mentality, perhaps, that this night ending would mean the wedding was happening.

Lily was undeterred, peering at what might have been a radio in a past life. "By the way, your girlfriend was getting _awfully_ close to Hugo…"

"Stop stirring, Potter, I'm not a cauldron."

She gave a wicked smile, and waved her wand over the electronic pieces. They wiggled, static sparks flying between them. "Malfoy, if you've got anything to confess, you're running out of time, you know."

"I confess-" She leaned closer, looking intrigued. "-that you're getting on my nerves."

"Ugh. Good job you're not needed for these photos. Your face would crack the lens."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Hope you've found a good camera for Rory. She'll be fuming that she's expected to take pictures after Rose banned her from bringing any equipment."

Lily's expression froze for a second, but then she laughed. "See you later, Scorpius. I'll be sure to keep the milk away from you so it doesn't curdle."

After she'd left, he experienced brief regret at being alone again, but he couldn't seem to make himself Apparate out, and he didn't want to brave the Millers again. Would it be worse, whiling this evening away alone at home?

Finally, thankfully, the door opened once more to admit the one person he did want to see. "So, here you are."

"Lily's causing trouble and the Millers want to make sure they get extensive coverage in my article," he explained, shifting on the workbench to make room for Aurora. "Also, I'm pretty certain Albus told the bartender not to serve me, so there didn't seem to be much point hanging around."

Aurora sat next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Seems like you're hanging around anyway, though."

"Couldn't leave my best girl in the lurch, could I?" He flashed her a grin, which faded as she didn't return it. "It doesn't feel like I wanted it to feel. I'm waiting for that point-of-no-return, I guess."

"Do you think you - how do you feel?"

Scorpius was quiet, considering. "Like I'm not sure how I'm going to get through tomorrow." He glanced at her. Time with the Weasleys had wreaked havoc on her hair, which had mostly fallen out of its bun at this point. She seemed nervy somehow, and he wondered if Hugo had said something to unsettle her. "Did you see Rose? What - how did she seem?"

"I think she's okay," Aurora said carefully, arranging her skirt and avoiding his eyes. "How are you?"

He sighed and rubbed his face. How was he supposed to answer a question like that? "She… sometimes when I'm with her, it's like it was when it was good between us? I know what you're saying. If Miller has that effect on her, and doesn't make her feel bad like I did… she's better off."

"You were young," Aurora reassured him, laying a hand on his knee. "You both were. It wasn't your fault."

"This isn't helping," he snapped, frustrated, tugging at his hair. It felt good to offload at least a little of the tension, even if Aurora didn't deserve it. "She's getting married tomorrow - it's too late."

"What if she weren't getting married tomorrow?" When he glared at her, she threw her hands up in the air. "You guys have been apart for three years. You could have _not_ run in the opposite direction every time you caught a whiff of Weasley. Scorpius, you can't deny that it looks like you want her because you can't have her."

Annoyed, Scorpius made to stand, but she caught his hand, tugging him back down to the bench. He sat, but on the edge so it was clear he was doing so because she was forcing him. "Rory, I don't know what you're playing at, but you spent the last three years making fun of me for not moving on, so I fucking-"

"Okay," she interrupted, lacing their fingers together. "I shouldn't have pushed you, I'm sorry. She - it makes me feel insecure. About us."

Scorpius blinked at her, wondering how much fairy wine she'd had. Mikey was a solid enough drinker, and Aurora wasn't one to appreciate being bested. "Did Hugo upset you, Rory? Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No, no, Hugo's… well, you know Hugo. Anyway, I'm sick of the pack of them. Let's talk about something else. Tell me about your trips."

He gave her a wary look. "I'm going to humour you, but if you complain once, that's it."

She mimed zipping her lips, and settled against him whilst he talked. Maybe there was something in it after all. He felt calmer, anyway, discussing his plans for Europe, for reaching out to other Wizarding governments, maybe looking at an effort to bring schools together with a lower mortality rate than the Triwizard Tournament. Wizards didn't travel enough, not unless it was something big like a World Cup. It had been Rose's family who'd incentivised him in the first place.

"I had no idea," Aurora murmured.

"Well, not _no_ idea, right? You always tease me that it's the Weasley in me-"

She kissed him. He froze in shock, unable to comprehend her hand under his chin, the taste of liquorice…

Of liquorice.

Scorpius pulled back. He couldn't speak, he couldn't think.

Not-Aurora stared at him, and it looked as though it was dawning on her that something wasn't right.

She fled.

* * *

"Of all your awful ideas, spending a party hiding when there was fairy wine to be had tops the list." Aurora, the real Aurora, stood in his doorway, swaying. "Oh," she said, tilting her head. Her hair, whilst not in the sleek condition it had been earlier in the evening, was far from the disarray in the workshop. "Y- you look really shit."

He huffed out a laugh, signing his name at the bottom of the letter he was writing. "Thanks, Rory. Are you here for my sobriety potion?"

"It's in your best interests, Malfoy." Aurora folded her arms, trying to look authoritative. "Potion or blurry photos tomorrow. Today. Fuck."

It was hard to remain sombre with Aurora hiccuping. Scorpius fumbled for the potion, which was Aunt Daphne's best creation (including his two cousins), and the only reason she was still invited round at Christmas. "Rory, you don't need to drink this on my account."

She hiccuped. "Gimme." He started to warn her not to blame him when she felt like seven shades of shit, but she'd already snatched the potion. "Holy fuck."

Giving her time for the potion to burn through her system (not literally, or maybe literally - he wasn't too sure of the ingredient list), Scorpius turned back to finish his article. Five minutes later, the whimpering had mostly subsided. "Better?"

"Less drunk. I'm not sure 'better' qualifies." Aurora had her face buried in her hands. From experience, he guessed she was trying not to vomit.

Good enough. "This is going to seem like a weird question, but did you kiss me tonight?"

"Scorpius, you sly fuck! Here I was, thinking you're a miserable bastard, when you're off kissing mysterious strangers."

He couldn't look at her. He picked the quill up again. "Somebody stole your face."

Fingers closed over his as she pried the quill out of his hands. "Start at the beginning."

Scorpius did, relating everything from the moment Mikey had separated them. Aurora's eyes were kind and gentle, and he almost couldn't continue, except that he needed somebody to confirm his suspicions.

"Lily was playing with my hair," Aurora said finally, though he'd already figured Lily was the mastermind. She'd roped Mikey in to keep the real Aurora away, but what he couldn't figure out was why Rose had gone along with it. "Albus kept telling her not to put anything in your drink - he was worried she'd got hold of _Veritaserum_ or something. Nobody thought of Rose."

Well, that explained the bar ban. Scorpius shuddered at the potential awfulness of having to confess his feelings for Rose by virtue of truth-compulsion.

"What are you going to do?"

He shrugged helplessly, and gestured at the items on his desk. "This. What else can I do?"

Aurora looked as though she was teetering on the brink of tears, and he felt not so far away from that himself. "Oh, Scorpius."

* * *

Scorpius had made Aurora leave after that, claiming he had too much to do. Other than owling Cuffe, he whiled away the hours until the wedding lying on his sofa. There was no knock at the door, no sniff of Floo in the fireplace, and no owls despite his open window.

Eleven o'clock. Time to face what he'd known since she'd disappeared on him in the workshop - that he'd represented unfinished business to Rose, and that she was marrying Miller today regardless.

Right. A Malfoy was never down on his luck for long, so said his grandfather, though their views on luck varied somewhat. Scorpius didn't need to ask his grandfather to know that Lucius would consider not marrying a Weasley the height of good fortune.

He shouldered his backpack, thinking of the first trip he'd taken with Rose. How they'd sat on the floor of her room, applying various charms until all their luggage fit in one compact, weightless bag. The charms had worn off since, and he wasn't as gifted there as Rose, so his backpack felt bulky though not unmanageable.

He made it to St Pancras in plenty time for his train, and slipped through the barrier next to the Eurostar entrance with ease. Last minute arrangements had made his journey somewhat cumbersome, but he was on the move and that eased the knot in his stomach.

Copies of the morning's _Prophet_ fluttered as he passed by the newspaper stand, but he couldn't bear to look at the engagement photo he knew would be gracing the front page. Cuffe had contemplated holding the edition back to get a picture of Rose in her dress, but decided that it could wait for the evening.

The train was already sitting at the platform, which was a bonus. Scorpius had the uncomfortable feeling that there were eyes on him as he boarded - he supposed the _Prophet_ article must have raised his profile again. All the more reason to get out of the country.

It didn't take long to locate his compartment, but he found it already occupied.

"Oh, sorry, I thought-"

And then he stopped.

"Could you close the door?" Rose asked.

Scorpius obeyed, but didn't move any further, leaning his weight against the frame. "What's going on?" The Polyjuiced Aurora came into his head, and he reached behind so he could curl his fingers around his wand. "What did you do the first time you got drunk?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I suppose that's fair. I tried to climb out on the roof. You stopped me."

Satisfied, he released his wand, but stayed where he was.

"I left Ethan."

The train pulled away from the station at that moment, sending Scorpius stumbling. He righted himself with his palms against the wall, taking a moment to collect himself.

Rose was watching him, eyes wide. "I - look, I got my own compartment. I can go sit in there until you're ready to talk."

He slid down the wall, sitting on the carpeted floor. That traitorous hope was bubbling in his chest again. Best to start with something small. "How did you know this was my compartment?"

"Dad," she answered, looking embarrassed. "Mumbled something about official Auror business, and how much he'd love to take Mum on one of these trains, and they fell all over themselves for him. Ethan's parents are selling their story. I had to go somewhere, and Aurora told me you'd be on this train."

"So, you're getting away."

Rose threw one of the cushions on the patterned couch at him. "Not all of us are frightened of long distance Portkeys, Scorpius. I left my fiancé the night before my wedding, I caught your train. Is that really all you've got to say to me?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Rose," he burst out. "Ten minutes ago, I thought you were already married."

She blew out her cheeks. They'd always known how to annoy each other best. "Okay, I started at the end. After we - after the workshop yesterday, I knew. I knew already, but I couldn't make myself do it to Ethan. He's a good guy, he's just - he's not-"

Genuinely bewildered, Scorpius asked, "Is this supposed to be the beginning?"

"He's not for me. He's not you."

It was what Scorpius had been hoping to hear for so long, since the first time he'd heard Rose and Miller were dating. He pinched himself, and then wondered if he were imagining having done so. He sat bolt upright, suddenly recalling the article he'd sent Cuffe. "Shit. I wrote an article about your wedding. If Cuffe publishes it, he's going to think I've made him look like an idiot on purpose."

Rose reached over to the table, and tossed the paper his way. "He published it. In a manner of speaking. Thanks for saying I looked beautiful in my dress."

Too disorientated to fixate on _that_ , Scorpius examined the front page. _Runaway Rose… Weasley leaves hotel mogul for old flame_. Their Spanish holiday photo took up most of the page, along with snippets of his premature account of the wedding, which were ringed with snide comments such as 'deceitful lover's cover up operation'.

Thank Merlin he'd had the presence of mind to resign already.

Jeremiah had charge of the actual content. He suspected Cuffe would have demanded that Scorpius be painted in a negative light, but Jeremiah had described him as a rogue, a ladies' man, and a scoundrel, traits Jeremiah at least believed were flattering.

"'Miller has offered a free night in one of his glamorous hotels to disappointed wedding guests'," Scorpius read incredulously. "That man doesn't miss a trick."

"Free publicity is the least he deserves," Rose replied.

Scorpius turned the paper over in his hands, folding so that their smiling, tanned faces disappeared. "Miller aside," he said, because he didn't know how to process her throwing away her engagement, "And dialling back a few years. You said it wasn't worth trying anymore."

"I was angry." She pulled the remaining cushion onto her lap, tugging at the zip. "Not that I didn't have a point - we both did. We let our jobs get on top of us. I moved departments the next month, and I was too proud to admit you were right. I thought Albus would do my dirty work for me, if I'm honest. And you didn't - didn't change anything. You wrote as much as you ever did. More, even. I felt as though you picked the paper."

It was too much to think that the thing that he'd believed was keeping him going during life without Rose was the very thing keeping him from life with Rose. He settled for a flippant, "Fucking Albus."

She grinned, though it soon became rueful. "Fucking us. I thought you'd taken on the article to wreck my wedding. After - after Foyles, a part of me hoped you had."

"Cuffe blackmailed me," he offered, finally easing his arms out of his backpack.

"Aurora told me. She must have come to the Burrow straight after she left yours. Couldn't believe I thought she'd lost her mind enough to be interested in you. She - er - she told me you quit."

Saying he hadn't had much choice didn't seem romantic, somehow, and neither did saying he'd done it for himself, too, a little bit. Then, because his brain seemed to be stuck on it, he blurted out, "I can't believe you left him for me."

She frowned at him. "For myself, mostly, Scorpius."

And he could deal with that, really. It felt less pressured, somehow, as though they didn't _have_ to work out, simply because she'd given up a thing for him. A big thing - a whole person. Another life.

"I missed you," he admitted to the carpet.

Rose crossed the room at that, kneeling in front of him, and closing her fingers over his. Her hands looked odd with the absence of the engagement ring he'd found himself looking at so much over the last fortnight. "I missed you, too. Let's start there."

He turned her hands over in his, pressed his lips to her knuckles, and felt hopeful.

* * *

"She put her chair right in front of me, and didn't even sit there!"

"Lucky you're so laid-back," Scorpius said dryly, scooping another forkful of Bled cake. "You've barely mentioned it since, and I definitely didn't see you casting anything on her towel."

Rose smirked around her own fork. "Itching charm," she confessed, though he'd gathered as much at the time. Rose liked to give karma a helping hand.

They fell into a companionable silence. She'd insisted on sharing a cake, but he suspected that they would order a second before they left the cafe.

At one time, Scorpius had felt obligated to squeeze everything into a holiday. He'd mellowed since, and he could have spent years in that very place, soaking up the tranquillity of the lake, watching Rose grapple with fellow sunbathers.

"You're staring at me."

He shifted his fork to his left hand and laced their fingers together. "Sorry. Still finding it quite surreal."

Her eyes softened, and he recalled the promises he'd murmured into her collarbone the previous night, wine and darkness lulling him into a state of confession. "Let's stay here. You can keep me in cream cakes all my days. You can peddle magic tricks to gullible tourists."

"You'd have to learn to row," he countered. They'd explored the islet two days ago, and Scorpius had almost been convinced he was in a fairytale, but Rose had steadfastly refused to raise an oar. He'd kissed her in the cove, their bare feet in the water, and she could have asked him to stay there forever, and he'd have done it without question.

"No deal, Malfoy."

Scorpius watched as she swept her hair back off her neck and began to deftly plait it. The midday sun was fierce, and he cast another cooling charm on them both, reluctant to head for the shade. Reluctant to go anywhere, if he were honest, though they were nearing the end of the two weeks designated for Rose's honeymoon. He didn't need to ask to know she wouldn't extend it - some things might have changed, but there were a few constants he could count on.

In truth, he was eager to go home, to be able to sit in the Leaky listening to Albus's terrible stories and to have Rose suffering alongside him. He missed the sense of the mundane in a way he never thought possible.

"Guess we'll have to head back to London, then."

She smiled at him, and he thought of lunchtimes in The Chipped Cup (even freelance, he'd need to eat food, right?), and weekends at the Burrow, and oh, fuck, Lily was going to be even more smug than before. "Well, not yet. We've got some time."

And they did. Enough time to order another Bled cake, in fact, and enough time for Rose to attempt rowing (however brief the experience). Enough time for a trip to Lake Bohinj, and then returning home. To cancel their _Prophet_ subscriptions, and resubscribe under a single name, years later when Cuffe had tired of badmouthing Scorpius.

Enough time to find a new home, somewhere Rose had never been knocked on her back, and to reacquaint Scorpius with cleaning spells.

And, eventually, enough time to attempt another wedding, though neither the _Prophet_ nor Ethan Miller were invited.


End file.
